


First Impressions

by KaidaShade



Series: Setting Sights [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Fun with Exo Memory Issues, Graphic robot injuries, Implied Attraction, Implied Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaidaShade/pseuds/KaidaShade
Summary: The thing about being friends with Exos, is you get to make a lot of first impressions if you know them long enough.Or, four times Cayde and Banshee met for the first time.
Relationships: Banshee-44/Cayde-6 (Destiny)
Series: Setting Sights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637296
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	1. First and Last

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Angst and humour, pulled all the backstory out of my ass.

The first time he saw Cayde-5 would also be the last, and he knew it the moment he laid eyes on him.

Banshee-12 sprang into motion at the shriek of alarms, cutting through the quiet hubbub of the hangar as a troop carrier limped in, its engines flaming out and listing badly to one side as it landed. Its surface was riddled with scorch marks from energy weapons and it took help from outside- his strong metal hands and two sets of organic ones- to get the ramp open. Smoke was beginning to build inside and flowed out when it crashed down, along with the troops within.   
  


They mostly seemed unhurt at least, all save for one. An Exo, being supported by two human comrades who were struggling under his weight, and as he emerged into the light Banshee felt his vents catch in sympathy. He looked terrible. One arm was missing entirely, the shoulder leaking sparks and deep red hydraulic fluid over a ruined set of body armour that was ripped open on one side, and Banshee was certain he could see the movement of internal systems. What little of the blue paint remained on his face was cracked from heat and one of his eyes was flickering, the glass cracked badly. As he carefully took him from his comrades, shouldering the weight easily, he felt the heat radiating off him and could hear the stuttering, gasping rattle of failing cooling systems. 

“Easy” he rumbled at him, adjusting his own fans to maximum and holding the other Exo close to him to try to act as a heat sink for him as he helped him down the ramp. “You’re gonna be fine. Just gotta get you cooled off ‘til the doc gets here.”

“Bullshit.” The Exo rasped, his voice glitching out. For a moment Banshee thought he might push him away, but instead he leaned in as he got him away from the carrier through a cloud of fire extinguisher gases and helped him sit a safe distance away.   
“Okay, you’re gonna live, how’s that? Stay there a sec.” Banshee told him, briefly darting over to his workstation and returning with several cold packs that he cracked in his hands to activate them before packing them against the torn open side of the Exo’s frame and sitting down beside him to hold them in place. “What’s your name?” 

His eyes flickered for a moment- relief or pain, hard to tell- before he replied. “Cayde-5.”  
“Alright, Cayde, you know how to turn off your pain receptors?”  
“Nope.”  
“Shit.” He put another cold pack on the back of Cayde’s head, hoping to keep his processor cool. There was pale coolant leaking from one side of his mouth- damage to the processor shielding, not good- and he gently tilted the Exo’s head back against the wall behind him to hold the pack there. “Helluva time to learn. Close your eyes. Think of a switchboard. Got it?"

Something to focus on would help him even if he couldn't get this little trick down. He complied, the rattling of his damaged fans subsiding slightly, then made a small noise of assent after a moment.

"Find one that's marked 'pain reception' and turn it off"

"It's that easy?"

"Our brains work weird. There's probably a technical way but this works in a pinch."

"Huh" the word was loaded with scepticism, but after a moment Cayde's eyes flicked back open and he glanced over with a weak, staticky laugh. "Holy fuck. That's so much better. Who're you again, O saviour?"

"Banshee-12. I'm just a mechanic. Medics're on their way though."

"I'd rather hang out with you" Cayde remarked. He sounded a little steadier, but his remaining arm had wrapped across his body to brush the shredded edges of his torso plating and Banshee could see his hand shaking. The light in his mouth flickered erratically, out of sync with his speech.

"Don't touch it. Tell me what happened?" He suggested. The less Cayde thought about his body right now, the better. The human mind wasn't meant to comprehend injuries like this, and reminding a stressed Exo how human they weren’t was never good.  
  
“Don’t… really remember. It was some heroic shit though. The most badass. Think grenades were involved.” He closed his eyes for a moment and Banshee gave him a gentle nudge.   
“Sounds ‘bout right. You’re the only one who’s hurt, must’ve been brave. Probably stupid, but definitely brave” he remarked. Keep him talking, keep him conscious, that was important. Cayde leaned into his shoulder, his plating still too hot against Banshee’s but better than it had been. He left a smear of hydraulic fluid over his shirt, but he found he didn’t care.  
“Hey, Cayde. Don’t pass out on me.”  
“‘M not.” He was quiet for a few moments, then said in a low, glitching voice, “They’re gonna reset me, aren’t they.”  
“You’ll be fine.” Banshee told him, because ‘no’ would be a lie and they both knew it. On impulse, he put his arm around Cayde’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze, and he was surprised to find the other Exo reaching up to catch hold of his hand before he could pull away.  
  
The moment hung, interrupted by running feet and a barked order from the Exo-engineer the base had on staff. Cayde jumped, eyes snapping open and flickering as he glanced to Banshee and up at the engineer as she crouched in front of him, tools coming out. Banshee found himself shooed away reluctantly, felt Cayde’s fingers squeeze his just for a moment and squeezed back as he drew away. 

He didn’t go far though. He kept watch, met that one working blue eye as the engineer plugged a device into a concealed port where Cayde’s collarbone would be if he were human. He grimaced, as much as an Exo could, and Banshee had to remind himself that this was for the best as the engineer ran a shutdown sequence and Cayde went limp, his lights fading out. He still watched as the team manhandled him onto a gurney and whisked him off, one of them pausing just long enough to mutter ‘well handled, Banshee-12’ at him before they hurried away.

He stood for a long, long time, staring after them with a strange cramp of guilt in his chest, until someone snapped their fingers in front of his face and called him away to help with repairing the carrier. He went reluctantly and tried to lose himself in the work, but the warmth of Cayde’s fingers lingered against his hands.

He wouldn’t see him again. But he didn’t think he’d forget him any time soon.


	2. First Friend

Cayde-6 was painfully aware that he had a lot of catching up to do. His first memory was of waking up on a cold table with someone shining a tiny flashlight in his eyes, and he'd spent a couple of days being poked and prodded and tested before they'd let him out to… do what, exactly? 

He'd been given directions to his quarters and told to wait for assignment, but nothing in there had been familiar at all and even after rummaging through the sparse contents- someone else's possessions, his mind kept trying to tell him even though he'd been told this was his- he was too restless to sit down and read the journals he found squirrelled away in exactly the places he thought he would hide such things. 

He left, wandering the halls aimlessly just for the excuse to move until he ran into a couple of people who seemed to recognise him. At least, their faces seemed to light up and they called his name, and when he stopped one of them clapped him on the back in greeting.

"Fuck, Cayde? It's good to see you on your feet man! We thought you were dead!"

They looked at him like they expected some kind of recognition and it made him cringe internally when he had to fumble after it. “Yeah… yeah, I guess I’m not. I don’t really like, remember… anything, really.” He said, rubbing a hand against the back of his head and avoiding their gazes. “So uh… yeah. What happened to me?”

“Oh…” The two exchanged a glance and Cayde tried not to feel bad. Wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember them, right? Or was it? What  _ had _ happened…   
“You got hurt pretty bad.” One said slowly, as though putting it together in her own head, “grenade came outta nowhere, would’ve killed half the squad if not for you.”   
“We didn’t think you’d make it back,” The other added, nodding along, “Hell, didn’t think any of us would, being fired on like that. But you hung on ‘til that mechanic guy in the hangar could get hold of you, at least. Think he saved your life, kept you cooled down and conscious ‘til the doc showed up. Don’t know what happened after tha-ow!” He winced as his companion elbowed him, presumably for being insensitive or something as far as she was concerned   
“Yeah, me neither.” Cayde shrugged, glancing towards the door at the end of the corridor. Conveniently, it was marked ‘hangar’. Had he been coming this way on autopilot? He had no idea, but now he wanted away from this awkward conversation. “Listen, I’ll uh, catch you guys later, yeah? Should probably thank that guy for the whole saving my life thing, y’know?”

He scooted around them as they nodded, a little confused but clearly willing to let him leave at least, and he waited until he’d had time to shoot off a finger-pistol and wink before whipping around to leave. Why? He didn’t fucking know, it… it just felt right. Felt like something he would do.

The hangar was busy, but at least nobody seemed to be paying him much attention. It only occurred to him then that he didn’t know  _ which  _ mechanic his apparent saviour had been, except that they were a dude and presumably knew something about Exos. The first part narrowed it down by about half, the second… well, how was he supposed to know that? He looked around, sticking close to the outer wall to keep out of the way of the bustle of the place, and his eyes landed on a blue and yellow Exo just as he happened to glance up. Their eyes met.   
  
That one. That was the one, had to be, that flicker of recognition was unmistakable and he wasn’t looking away, either. He kind of looked like he’d seen a ghost, in fact. Cayde lifted a hand in an awkward wave and ambled over, trying to act casual with his other hand in his pocket.   
“Hey. I hear there’s a mechanic in here oughta be praised as my personal hero.” He said, trying for smooth. “Can’t help but think it might be you? Uh… I’m Cayde, by the way, Cayde-6. I dunno if you got that before...” Nailed it. Absolutely.

The mechanic looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on his right side where the plating was slightly smoother, slightly newer. “You look better than last time I saw you, that’s for sure. Didn’t do much. Just kept you going for a couple minutes.” he said, and there was a weird look on his face Cayde had trouble parsing. 

"It was enough." Cayde shrugged, ambling a couple of steps closer. "I mean, for a stranger too, I assume?"

"Yeah, I guess. You're not the first Exo who's come in here blasted to hell with their cooling system shutting down. It's pretty much always that or our own mind realising we should be dead that kills us, so I sorta learned to deal with both. Humans who ain't trained always get it wrong, they go for anything that's leaking first."

"Huh. Well, thanks. Even if it's just something you woulda done for anyone." Cayde looked him up and down in return, noting the battered paintwork on his hands because it was easier than trying to parse the way he was looking at him. "Lemme get you a drink sometime? Or can I at least have your name?"

There was a pause, and Cayde finally understood the look. Guilt. What was he missing here, why would this guy feel guilty for saving his life? “Banshee-12. But you don't owe me anything for something I did for a different you."

Cayde tipped his head, squinting at him. “I… guess? Or you could see it as like, you’re responsible for current me existing at all. So I can buy you a drink for that.” A thought occurred to him and a teasing gleam appeared in his eyes for a moment, “Or, y’know, since you made Cayde-6 happen, I can just call you daddy forever if you prefer?”

Banshee blinked, utterly perplexed for a moment, then he snorted a laugh and shook his head as some of the tension diffused from his frame. “Oh no, nooo, don’t you fuckin’ dare. Fine, fine. Just a drink though. And if you call me anythin’ even  _ like  _ that I’m gonna ram the bottle up your exhaust port.”   
“Understood.” Cayde beamed at him, unsure quite why he was so damn pleased. Maybe it was the idea of making a friend who didn’t already have expectations of him, didn’t already know him better than he knew himself. Maybe Banshee was just cute, in a grumpy kind of way. Huh. Into guys. Nice to find out things about yourself. “Tonight? Think I can find booze by then.”    
“Sure. I get off at six. Get the Exo Special Brew, actually works on us. Don’t give it to your human friends though, it’ll kill ‘em.”

“Heh. Duly noted.” Banshee looked back to the work he’d been doing and Cayde took that as a dismissal. He turned to leave with a playful salute, and the rest of the day seemed a little easier after that.

It was a nice night and he came out of it with a friend, but the war went on and worsened and gave them mere weeks together, and the one thing Cayde regretted when he was deployed was that he’d never asked for Banshee’s comms number.

Banshee regretted the same, when he saw Cayde’s name on the lists of the missing a few months later.


	3. Last City

Banshee-40 handed off yet another weapon and took just a moment to pause and look out across the City. It had been months since what was coming to be called the Battle of Six Fronts, and finally things were starting to recover. His shoulder still ached from injuries he’d taken in the fighting though, and he envied these Guardians and their little floaty companions their easy healing. It wouldn’t stop him though; if the City needed protecting, he’d be right in there with everyone else. He hadn’t lived this long to die cowering from an enemy as they burned his home around him.   
  
But for now, there was peace, room to breathe and rebuild. There was still danger beyond the walls, still Guardians who needed his guns to face it, but for now Titans turned their strength to lifting and carrying and Hunters traded their hand cannons and bows for welding torches in the high places nobody else could reach, while the common folk who lived and sometimes thrived beneath the shadow of the Traveller tilled and hammered and tinkered and put their lives back together.   
  
In the brief lull between customers he watched a pack of Hunters- newly-risen, by their plain white Ghosts and scavenged gear- dart across the road and scatter at the sound of a furious shout from somewhere around the corner. He didn’t quite have time to react as one dashed for his shop and vaulted the counter, swinging himself underneath it and sliding to a stop.    
“Hey, what the-”   
“Shh! I’m not here!” he hissed, bright blue eyes peering out from the shadows and the yellow light of his mouth flashing and giving him away as he spoke. Exo, then. Banshee tipped his head at him and sighed, then looked up as an Awoken Titan came storming around the corner, eyes darting this way and that before landing on him. He visibly calmed himself before approaching, the lightning crackling across his armour dying away.   
“Gunsmith.” He said, nodding politely. Banshee returned the gesture and faked a cough as he heard a very quiet curse from under the counter.   
“Somethin’ I can do for you, Zavala?” he asked, tipping his head.   
“Nothing of great import. Have you seen a group of young Hunters, at all? I thought they came this way.”

“Hmm, don’t think so. There’s always Guardians runnin’ in and outta here, I lose track.” He said casually, giving the Hunter a little nudge with his toe. “What do you need ‘em for? If I see ‘em I can pass on a message.”   
“Ah, a shame. If you do see them, tell them that the voluntary return of my Mark will be without consequences. If I have to take it back, however…” Banshee felt a tingle across his plating, smelled a faint tang of ozone in the air.   
“Got it. If I see a buncha kinderguardian idiots in capes, I’ll let ‘em know.” he nodded. 

“Thank you, Banshee.”    
  
Banshee waited until the Titan had left before taking a step back and peering under the counter. Sure enough, the blue-faced Hunter hiding there was clutching a strip of decorated fabric and staring wide-eyed at him.   
“Holy shit, you didn’t rat me out.”   
“Zavala’d turn you into scrap metal. Why’d you go do somethin’ dumb like that?” Banshee asked, moving out of the way to let him scramble out of the tight space. He adjusted his cloak, dusted himself off, and seemed to be trying his level best to look like this was all totally part of the plan. His Ghost appeared, giving him a quick scan like it wanted to make sure he was still in one piece. 

“Got dared. Good Hunter never turns down a dare.” He said airily. Banshee leaned his hip against the counter and folded his arms, squinting at the Hunter. He’d definitely never seen him before, so why was that voice so damn familiar? “What?”   
“What’s your name?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Don’t be a dipshit. You just hurled yourself into my shop like the Fallen hordes were after you, least I get is a name.”

“You first.”   
“Banshee-40, your turn.”   
“ _ Forty-?” _ _   
_ “Name.”   
“Fine. Cayde-6. Banshee- _ Forty? _ ” The other Exo looked stunned, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I’m old, so what? Some of us had to get here the long way round.” He folded his arms and glared at him, daring him to make a huge deal out of it. Some people tried to treat him like some fragile, doddery old man, and he’d pistol-whipped more than one Guardian for it. He’d do the same to this one, even if there was something about him that made his fans skip. 

His mouth-light flickered a few times before he managed to find the right words. “I’m not gonna be a dick about it, you  _ survived,  _ that’s pretty impressive.  _ And _ you saved my ass from tall blue and shiny, you have my gratitude.” Cayde pulled an elaborate bow, and Banshee couldn’t help relaxing a bit. Charming little shit.   
“Give his Mark back before he splats you and we’ll call it even, yeah?” He shrugged. Cayde’s grin was pretty disarming too, especially with how eagerly he nodded.   
“Oh, yeah, definitely. Worst idea ever, gotta think of a way to get back at that guy for the dare.” He said, waving the offending piece of armour in the air vaguely before a considering flicker crossed his eyes and he looked Banshee up and down. “First though… I’m pretty new to the City. Don’t s’pose you wanna get some food, show a guy around? There’s a guy the size of a truck doing barbecue a few streets over.”

He opened his mouth automatically to say no, he was busy, but he caught himself realising just how long it had been since he'd actually eaten anything other than odd bits of scrap and stray bullet casings. Sure, physically that was enough but mentally… 

Huh. That probably explained why he had gotten so cranky and scatterbrained the last few weeks.

"Sure, why not? Just gotta pack up. You apologise to Zavala and meet me back here. Just follow the smell of ozone, you'll find him."

Cayde pulled a face, lifted his hands to argue and then sighed and sagged. 

"Fine. C'mon Sundance, let's get our asses handed to us." He said, looking to his Ghost as Banshee let him out from behind the counter the normal way.

_ "Just your ass. I had nothing to do with it!" _ She declared, zipping over Banshee's head with what might have been a little Ghost nod of thanks. Cayde threw him a wave before gathering himself and jogging off down the street to face his fate. Banshee watched him go, and couldn't help but smile. Clearly this idiot needed someone to look out for him.


	4. Last Lives

It was always weird meeting someone again after a reset, but for some reason Cayde was particularly dreading this one. He'd known Banshee through a few lives now, a steadfast constant as the City changed around him and Cayde, too, found himself different. 43 had been the closest they'd gotten though. There was something different in the way they had interacted towards the end, like there was something else there, unsaid but lingering.

That would be gone now. Back to square one. 

Probably for the best. Dangerous to get attached, really.

Still, he liked the guy and someone who knew him well would probably be a valuable source of information, and Cayde needed some gun repairs anyway. He could keep it professional. His feet felt like lead as he dragged himself across the Tower though, to where Banshee-44 had opened up his predecessor's shop once more. 

From a distance, nothing seemed to have changed. Banshee dealt with customers the same way he always had, gruff but helpful and knowledgeable as ever in his field. Some things, Cayde supposed, never changed. But there was something in the way he held himself, moments of hesitation when he turned to get something and had to think about where it was, that allowed a glimpse through to someone different. Cayde found himself watching him for a while, until he realised that someone staring at you across the courtyard was probably creepy, especially if you didn't know who they were, and he made himself approach.

"Hey, Banshee. Good to see you back." He said as he sauntered up. Play it cool, he's probably had several people greet him like that today, he thought. Banshee squinted at him for a moment before responding.

"Hey… Cayde, right?"

"You remember?" He couldn't keep the words back, hated the trace of hope in the surprise, especially when Banshee tipped his head and wiggled an uncertain hand in the air.

"The last me left some… cheat sheets, guess you'd say. Photos, notes, that kinda stuff. You're pretty distinctive. He had a lot to say about you too."

He shouldn't ask. He knew it.

"Yeah? What'd he say?" 

Couldn't help himself. Damnit. The familiar wry flicker in Banshee's eyes ached a little.

"Mostly that you're a smart-mouth pain in the ass, you never turn down a bet, and I'm not allowed to mod  _ anything  _ for you without checking with Shaxx first." He said, leaning on the counter, "Oh yeah, and you owe me money."

“Damn. Those’re some pretty comprehensive notes…” was that what Banshee-43 had thought most important for his next self to remember? Had he misjudged their friendship so badly? Something must have shown on his face, because Banshee reached over and nudged him in the arm so he’d meet his eyes.   
“He also said,” He continued, slowly and more considered, “that you’re the most loyal friend a man could hope for and that we were lucky to know you. And you got great taste in ramen, whatever that is. So I gotta admit, I’ve kinda been hoping you’d come by.”

Something in Cayde’s chest did a weird flip-flop. “Huh. Well, see, now I feel like I got a lot to live up to. And if you don’t remember  _ ramen _ , clearly we got some work to do.” His eyes brightened and he straightened up as he remembered what he actually came here for, pulling out a seafoam-blue SMG with dramatic metal prongs around the barrel, “How ‘bout this? You fix this up for me, and I’ll start repaying some of that debt by taking you out for the best damn meal of your life?”   
“That… is a damn nice gun.” Banshee remarked, taking it carefully and examining it with an expert eye. “You got yourself a deal, Cayde-6. I’ll see you back here when I close up.”    
“I know right? Don’t get it too close to anything electrical, it’s… interesting.” He said, backing up with a wave. Banshee returned the gesture and he all but bolted, turning his back to hide his excited grin. This had gone better than he could have imagined!

It did mean, though, that he didn’t see Banshee gazing after him with a strange softness to his expression, a kind of wonder making him linger there until someone asked him if he was alright and snapped him out of it.   
  
His last self had written… a lot, about Cayde. He had scoffed at the last part of that page of notes, but it had turned out to be the truest part of the whole thing.

‘You are madly, deeply in love with him. He has no idea.’   
  



End file.
